


Creatures of the Night

by theirhappystory



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, prostitute/client au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theirhappystory/pseuds/theirhappystory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak has never had a client quite like Oliver Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creatures of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Typically I post prompt fills in my other piece titled "I've Never Truly Loved (Until You Put Your Arms Around Me)" but this one is so long I figure it warrants its own work.

Okay, Smoak, you can do this. Just go in there, smile and bend over. Your body will do the rest. He’s probably too inebriated to tell you apart from the Queen of England anyway. But whatever you do, stick to five word replies tops. Anymore and you’ll ruin it.

It’s the same pep talk Felicity gives herself each and every time she’s on the job. Smile. Look pretty. Don’t speak. Men are simple creatures when it comes to their sexual desires. If you’ve got the right parts, that’s all they really need. Providing one doesn’t possess the same penchant for babbling that she does.

Taking a step back, Felicity checks herself over in the full-length mirror one more time. When Tommy Merlyn had contacted her about working Oliver Queen’s ‘Welcome Back From the Dead’ bash, he had given her two instructions. One, was to wear lace and heels. Two, was to rock his best friend’s world. Not exactly difficult instructions to follow. In fact, Felicity had been beyond relieved when that was all he specified. The infamous duo of Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen had a reputation in Starling, one that got them into a lot of trouble with the law but also into a lot of strangers’ beds. Or at least that had been the case five years ago; before Oliver was presumed dead after a storm sank the yacht he and his father were on. Regardless, when Felicity had gotten the call she was expecting something about whips and chains. Not exactly her forte.

The blonde shakes her head to dispel the thoughts running rampant and instead focuses on her appearance. Her petite frame, barely reaching five-six even in her four-inch Louboutins, is wrapped in a red lace balconette bra with a matching garter set, one of her favorite outfits actually. Gone are her everyday glasses and ponytail, replaced by contacts and loose, blown out curls.

If only her mother could see her now.

“Meghan? You ready to go?”

The sound of her stage name signals that it’s go time. Grabbing her black slip dress off of a hook, Felicity hastily slides it on, tying the silken sash in a bow around her waistline and settling her bag in the crook of her elbow as she makes her way to the door of the changing room. She opens it to reveal none other than Mr. Merlyn himself waiting for her on the other side.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Then, please, right this way madam.”

She isn’t quite sure what to make of Tommy. On one hand, he seems like a very nice and genuine guy. But on the other, he’s throwing a party and hiring a prostitute for a man who just came back from the dead. She’ll reserve her judgment on this one.

They make their way through the crowded club, bodies undulating and drinks spilling around them. The music is so loud that Felicity can feel it rattling her bones. This is the way she likes it, loud, crowded, and easy to blend in to. No one even bats an eye as Tommy leads her upstairs to one of the VIP sections.

“Sorry we’re behind schedule. Oliver went MIA for a little bit.”

There’s a worry in the dark-haired man’s voice the Felicity instantly picks up on.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just thinking about some party logistics. Nothing to worry about.”

They arrive on the VIP floor and her gaze immediately zeroes in on her client. He’s sitting in a roped off section, lounging in a booth with company seated around the table. Laughter and the clinking of glasses just barely reach her ears above the pulsing sound of the music from the DJ below. A redhead to his left tries to engage Oliver in conversation, gently placing a hand on his bicep and leaning into his side. Felicity doesn’t blame her. The man is gorgeous.

At somewhere around six feet with bright blue eyes, muscles apparent even beneath his navy blue suit, and a jawline that could cut glass covered in stubble she imagines would leave the most delish of burning in its wake, Oliver Queen is an eleven out of ten. Felicity had seen pictures and videos of him in the news before he died, drowned, _went away_ and he was a cute kid, if not a little too pretty for her tastes. But now… now there was an edge to him, a sort of mystery in the way he holds himself. And just like any other mystery she’s ever stumbled across, Felicity is itching to solve this one.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

The question pulls Felicity from the assessment of her client and she tilts her head questioningly in reply.

“What?”

“Do you want me to introduce you? Do you want to just subtly work yourself in?  Or….?”

Well that’s a new one. Usually Felicity doesn’t get much of a say in the matter. People tend to forget the she’s a person and not a product after they hand her the initial down payment. She certainly wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment from someone of Tommy Merlyn’s status.

“If I enter with you it won’t draw as much attention. Then you can introduce me personally and I’ll do the rest.”

Just as Felicity begins evaluating her best course of action, Oliver’s gaze shifts and meets hers. Her breath catches in her throat, but not in the cliché romance novel way where the girl meets the guy and the world stops around her, because Felicity Smoak’s life is just about the furthest thing from that. No, the hitch in her breathing comes from the pain she finds in the stormy blue depths of his eyes, apparent to her even from so many feet away. The look only lasts a fraction of a second before intrigue colors his features and Felicity is quick to pull herself together. Now is not the time for sympathy or psychoanalyzing, now is the time for seduction.

Putting on her game face, Felicity throws a coy smile his way, one that Oliver returns, if not in a somewhat guarded manner.

“Looks like I won’t have to do much introducing after all.”

Shaking her head and releasing a small laugh, she follows after Tommy as he approaches the bodyguard. He nods amiable to the broad-shouldered man, giving him a firm pat on the back.

“Mr. Diggle, are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s certainly an extravagant one, Mr. Merlyn.”

“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me and my friend here.”

Tommy gestures towards Felicity and she steps forward, giving the bodyguard a shy smile. She hates this part, meeting the bodyguards or friends or staff of whoever has requested her services for the evening. She’s always met with scorn or condescension or even worse, pity. But the older man, Diggle is what Tommy called him, only gives her a kind smile and a nod of his head and for that she is extremely grateful.

“Ollie! Hey man! Where did you disappear to earlier?”

Felicity follows the enigmatic brunette over to the booth where his best friend resides, transitioning further into her role with each step she takes. Oliver stands to greet the other man, shrugging the hands-y ginger, _redhead_ off in the process.

Good, less work for her. She hates competing with other girls, especially when on the job.

“Oh you know, just making my rounds. And who’s this?”

“How rude of me. Oliver, this is Meghan. Meghan, Oliver Queen.”

Oliver takes her hand in greeting but something about his smile seems wrong. It’s a little too charming, a little too wide across his face. But there’s another facet to it that’s throwing Felicity off and she can’t pinpoint exactly what.

“Meghan. That come with a last name?”

Pulling on her most flirtatious smile, Felicity replies.

“You might have to get a few drinks in me before getting to the personal, Mr. Queen.”

“Oliver, please. Mr. Queen was my father.”

“Right but he’s dead.” Felicity’s eyes widen as soon as the words escape her mouth and she immediately tries to backtrack. “I mean he drowned! But you didn’t. Obviously, that’s why we’re here. Okay, I’m going to stop babbling in 3… 2… 1.”

And _that_ is why she tells herself not to get comfortable with her clients or to speak to them any more than necessary.

Surprisingly enough, her blunder is not met with the reaction Felicity was expecting. Instead of reproach and awkward silence, the grin on Oliver’s face loses its exaggerated air and he laughs. Well, breathes in a way that can kind of, sort of be considered a laugh. But more than that, she realizes what was so off about his earlier smile. His eyes. They had been dead, lacking a spark that portrays true happiness or enjoyment and even though it still isn’t fully present in his gaze, Felicity can spot the difference.

“Would you like to join me for a drink, Meghan?”

Blush still heats her cheeks but Felicity nods in acquiesce, taking the hand that Oliver offers to her.

“I would love that.”

He leads them back to the booth, signaling for Felicity to slide in first before following after her. Various bottles of high-end alcohol litter the glass table like it’s nothing even though Felicity is pretty sure she spots a bottle of scotch older than her sitting amongst the crystal handles.

“So, what’s your poison?”

Oliver is already reaching for an empty glass held beneath the table when she responds.

“Red wine.”

Again? Seriously? Felicity nearly slaps the palm of her hand across her face in embarrassment. At this rate, it will be a miracle if she makes it through the evening with even half of the down payment.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for a server to come back for that. Anything I can get you in the mean time?”

“No, that’s okay. I mean you don’t have to order wine just for me. A vodka soda would be great.”

Another small laughing-air-huff thing escapes him and it’s honestly kind of amazing this man hasn’t tossed her to the curb by now. Others have done so for far less before.

Oliver fixes her a drink and then pours himself a scotch, neat. Felicity catches a glance of the label on the bottle and yeah, it’s definitely older than her. She chooses not to comment, occupying her mouth by taking a long pull of the beverage in her hand. The alcohol burns her throat on the way down and settles in her stomach. It warms her insides and with another gracious sip she can feel the beginning of a pleasant buzz set in. This will decidedly be the only drink she allows herself to have tonight.

“Tell me, Meghan, how do you and Tommy know each other?”

Oh right, Tommy. The job.

There’s a knowing look in Oliver’s eye when she angles her body towards him to respond, pitching forward slightly to test the boundaries of personal space.

“Similar social circles. Friend of a friend of a friend. You know how that stuff works.”

“Then you must not have lived in Starling for too long.”

Felicity cocks her head to the side, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  It’s an odd assumption to make off of so little information.

“Why do you say that?”

“Tommy and I were nearly inseparable before I... went away. Wherever he went, I went and vice versa. Had you been at any of the parties we attended, I would have made it a point to introduce myself and get to know you.”

“Maybe you just never saw me.”

“I don’t think it would be possible to be in the same room as you and not take notice.”

Oh frack. That was smoother than her brand new Intel Core i7 processor. Felicity raises her glass to take another deep swig of the bubbly liquid. She might have to extend that one drink limit to two.

“You really are just as suave as they say you are. Do you know that?”

His shoulders shake with mirth at her comment and Oliver takes a sip of his own drink before replying.

“Good. I was afraid after these past five years that I might have lost my touch.”

“I can reassure you, your touch is just fine.”

At this point she’s already resigned to the fact that this man has her in rare form tonight. Luckily, it seems to be working in favor as Oliver leans further towards her, a large hand coming to rest on the top of her bare knee. It doesn’t slide higher or any further in, remaining stationary aside from the gentle back and forth of his thumb across the sensitive skin on the inside of her knee.

His touch sends sparks of electricity through Felicity and it’s almost alarming how quickly her body begins to react. This isn’t normal for her when on the job. While for the most part she does take a certain amount of pleasure from her clients, no one has ever turned her on so intensely in such a short amount of time.

“Is it now?”

Their conversation has become an exchange of low voices and heavy-lidded gazes at this point. An undercurrent of tension hums between them, pulling the pair together like the tightening of a string, threatening to snap if they don’t close the space between them. Felicity finds herself squirming in her seat, shifting closer to Oliver as she sets her drink aside.

“I think so. But we might need to test that theory a few more times before it can be considered credible.”

The distance between them diminishes quickly as they come together. Oliver’s mouth slants against hers in a deep, toe-curling kiss that sets her body ablaze. This kiss, this man is quickly becoming all she knows and she can’t find it in herself to care. Oliver tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth, causing Felicity to hiss in an amalgamation of pain and pleasure. She can’t help the moan that escapes her when his tongue seeks out her own, hands quickly sliding along sturdy shoulders and around his neck to pull herself closer. Oliver grunts slightly at the movement and a voice in the back of her head whispers that something was off about the sound. However, Felicity chooses to ignore it in favor of running her hands down his chest, feeling the defined muscles of his abdomen jump beneath her touch.

As her hands slide around either side of his waist, one of them comes in contact with something wet and warm. Felicity gently presses against the area in confusion and then rubs her fingers together, attempting to discern the texture of the strange fluid. Oliver sucks in a harsh breath at her actions, body going eerily still beneath hers and abruptly ending their kiss.

Pulling back, Felicity finds Oliver with his eyes screwed shut in what almost appears to be pain. His hands, which had only moments ago been gripping onto her, are now clenched into fists against her sides as if bracing himself for impact. All his reaction does is bring about more questions that have Felicity quickly glancing down at her hand.

A deep red liquid coats her fingers, thick and warm to the touch. Blood, she realizes with a start.

“You’re bleeding!”

“I don’t need to be told that.”

“Well obviously you do since you’re here in a club and not, you know, on the way to a hospital!”

She tries to keep her voice at a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one in the VIP section heard her. Luckily, the number of occupants in the booth is dwindling and the closest individual seems to be oblivious to their exchange.

“I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“What do you mean you didn’t think it was this bad? You knew you were bleeding?!”

This man is a conundrum. He knew he was bleeding yet still went to a party, drank, and proceeded to shove his tongue down her throat, albeit in a much more attractive manner than it sounds. Who the hell does that? Oliver Queen, apparently.

There will be time to process all of this later. First and foremost, Felicity needs to figure out how to handle this without making a scene.

“Tell them to give us the room.”

“What?”

Leaning forward, Felicity presses her mouth to the pulse point at his neck while simultaneously applying pressure to his wound. Oliver’s pulse beats heavy and fast beneath her lips but she can’t tell which of her ministrations causes it. If she had to wager, however, her money would be on the more painful of the two.

“Tell them to give us the room so that I can get a better look at your side and try to staunch the bleeding. I don’t know what the hell you were doing but passing out isn’t going to help either of us.”

With that she continues to press hot kisses against his jaw and neck, putting on a show for their remaining company. Oliver loudly clears his throat before calling out.

“Give us the room, would you?”

Various mumbles of ascent follow his request and the room’s occupants begin to leave. Felicity throws one of her legs over Oliver’s lap for good measure, careful not to lean into his side or jostle him too much. Tommy is the last one to exit, calling out over his shoulder as he leaves.

“Have fun, man. And don’t worry, she’s already paid for.”

Ouch. She squeezes her eyes shut against the sting his comment leaves. It’s not like her status is a secret, but having it verbally acknowledged is never easy.

Oliver struggles to raise a hand, cupping Felicity’s face in an act much more intimate than their acquaintance warrants. It doesn’t startle her nearly as much as it should. In fact, she almost feels… safe when he looks at her like this, kindness in his eyes even as they’re tinged with pain. If she let herself, Felicity has a feeling she could get lost in his expressive gaze for hours.

“I’m sorry. Tommy shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s fine. We had a transaction and he’s just informing you of it. Although I’m not sure bloodstains were covered in the agreement.”

With a shake of her head, Felicity shifts her focus to the injury on his side. Her petite hand isn’t doing very much to help stop the blood flow. Without a second thought, she grasps Oliver’s hand and presses it against the wound, freeing her own hands in order to strip her dress up and over her head. Felicity quickly balls up the silken fabric and presses it against his side.

She better be getting a bonus for this. Is it rude to send a dry cleaning bill to a client who nearly bled out on you?

“This is not what I expected when Tommy said he hired private entertainment for the evening.”

“Oh? Not expecting a woman of the night?”

“No. Not expecting _you_.”

A blush heats her cheeks and Felicity ducks her head at the implied compliment. Luckily they’re interrupted before she has the chance to ruin whatever they have going on with an embarrassing ramble.

“Queen!”

The course shout causes both of them to jump as a man who looks to be in his fifties enters the room, detective’s badge on display where it hangs around his neck. Felicity quickly hides her face in Oliver’s shoulder, panic taking over. She’s been made.

Surprisingly, Oliver’s arms fold around her, pulling Felicity further into him as he leans closer to whisper in her ear.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of this. Just follow my lead.”

She nods her head in understanding and is shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor that follows her assent. It’s a subtle shift in posture, a relaxing of shoulders here, the clutching of fingers there, but it instantly turns their position into a tastefully suggestive embrace.

“Can I help you, Detective Lance? This is a private party and as you can see, I’m rather occupied at the moment.”

The older man makes a noise of disgust before replying.

“Yeah, well, there was an accident at Adam Hunt’s building tonight, which is conveniently located right across from here. You know anything about that?”

Felicity’s eyes widen at the implication in the detective’s question.

“Who’s Adam Hunt?”

“He’s a millionaire bottom-feeder and honestly I’m kind of surprised you two aren’t friends.”

“Incase you haven’t noticed, I’ve been out of town for awhile.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly Oliver transitions into the role of billionaire playboy, resurrected from the dead. Because that’s exactly what it is, a role. After what Felicity has witnessed of Oliver Queen in the past half hour, there’s no way she’s buying this cover anymore. Something happened to this man while he was gone that irrevocably changed him and she’s itching now more than ever to find out what.

“Right. Well maybe this’ll jog your memory. The guy in the hood, the one who saved your ass the other day, just attacked Hunt. We nearly had the bastard too, got a lucky shot in and had him on the ground before he got away. Damn lunatic zip lined out of a window over to this building.”

No. It’s clear what Detective Lance is implying and just, no. There’s no way. Oliver Queen is not the… _hood_ guy. That goes against all logic. A changed man who knows what maturity is? Yeah, sure. But a highly trained vigilante with a bow and arrow? Impossible.

Yet, the blood coating her hands and seeping into her dress would say otherwise.

“I’m sorry to here that. Should I offer a reward to the person who can find that nut bar? Might make your job a little bit easier.”

The tension is palpable between Oliver and Detective Lance. Whatever issues the two men have reach far beyond the confines of this night. Things are also becoming incredibly uncomfortable for Felicity as she remains perched on Oliver’s lap. She hasn’t moved much since they were interrupted and if she doesn’t do something soon, the detective is bound to become suspicious.

Keeping that in mind, Felicity turns her face into Oliver’s neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw and speaking just loud enough for Lance to hear.

“Oliver, what’s going on? You promised we would have some privacy up here.”

“We will. Just give me a second, okay?”

“Hurry.”

She nudges her nose against his neck for good measure, shifting herself on his lap in a way she hopes is both provocative and minimally painful for him. All the while trying not to panic over the fact they she could be straddling the most dangerous man in Starling City.

“Your friend been with you all night, Queen?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Felicity smiles playfully at the detective, trying her best to pull off the stereotype so commonly associated with her blonde hair and bright lips, which isn’t altogether hard considering she’s sitting in a man’s lap in only her underwear.

“Oh, we’re not friends, Detective. But I’ve definitely been with him all night.”

The voice she uses is sweet enough to make even her nauseous, but it seems to do the job because the older man sighs in what sounds a lot like defeat before shaking his head.

“Some things never change, I see. Word of advice, sweetheart: run, before he drags you down, too.”

Oliver stiffens in her arms even as Detective Lance commands the surrounding officers to clear out.

Once they’re alone again, Felicity speaks softly.

“I think the bleeding has slowed enough for you to make a get away.”

The words seem to snap Oliver out of whatever reverie he was in because he quickly releases his hold on Felicity and allows her to climb off of him. He helps her to gently peel the bloodied fabric of her dress away from his wound, checking to see that the bleeding has in fact stopped for the most part.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about your dress. I’ll buy you a new one if you’d like.”

Felicity just shakes her head, still a little bit too in shock to work through all that’s happened tonight.

“It’s okay. I needed a new one anyway. You’ll… you’ll have someone look at that, right? It would be a shame to waste a body like that by bleeding out in the back of a club.”

Do they sell brain to mouth filters at Radio Shack? Because she could really use one right now.

“I’ll be fine. Do you need me to get you something to, uh, cover up with?”

Oh right. She’s practically naked right now.

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Bending down, Felicity quickly rummages through her long forgotten bag and pulls out the extra slip dress she always brings with her. She quickly slides the thing on over her head before turning back around to face Oliver. He’s slumped over in his seat and Felicity quickly returns to his side to check on him one more time.

“You really shouldn’t be alone like this. Is there someone I can call? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

He must find the notion humorous because despite everything that’s just happened, Oliver chuckles at the offer.

“My bodyguard, Mr. Diggle, can take care of this. He shouldn’t be too far away.”

“Oh, okay then…”

They sit in uncomfortable silence, neither one of them sure how to handle the giant elephant in the room. But considering she just found out that Oliver Queen may or may not be the mysterious hooded vigilante, it could be much worse. He’s not trying to kill her or anything so that’s cool.

“I guess I’ll be going then. Here.”

 Felicity fishes around the bottom of her bag for a moment before pulling out a thick envelope and handing it over to Oliver.

“That’s the down payment your friend gave me. Seeing as I didn’t, for lack of a better term, work for it, it seems only fair that he get it back.”

Oliver holds up the hand on his good side, refusing to accept the money back from her with a shake of his head.

“Keep it. I’d say you have more than earned the money. Use it to replace the dress I ruined.”

“No, it’s okay. That thing was getting old anyway. Full disclosure, I got it on sale and had them mark another thirty percent off because the beading was messed up. Really it’s not a huge loss. I promise.”

Oliver doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he reaches out and grasps Felicity’s hands in his. For a second she’s sure he’s about to take the money but then he closes her hands around the envelope and gently urges them back towards her body.

“I promise you, whatever is in this envelope will not be missed. And if it is, I’ll take care of it. Please, take the money.”

This could be a bribe, she thinks. A bribe for her to keep her mouth shut, to forget that tonight ever happened. But there’s no threat or ulterior motive in those deep blue eyes and without realizing it, Felicity retracts her hands from Oliver’s along with the envelope.

“Okay. I guess I’ll be going then…”

Rising from the booth, Felicity slings her bag over her shoulder and smooths her hands over her hair a few times in an attempt to tame the mussed up curls. Oliver calls out to her as she makes her exit, causing Felicity to pause in her step.

“Thank you, Meghan, for helping me tonight. I’m not sure many people in your position would have done the same.”

“Felicity.”

“What?”

She glances back over her shoulder at him, smiling softly at his confusion.

“Felicity. Meghan is my middle name.”

“Felicity.”

They way her name sounds rolling off his tongue sends shivers down her spine in the most delicious of ways. It sounds so natural, like he’s been calling her that his entire life instead of testing it out for the first time and the way he smiles at her after saying it sends her heart racing.

“I like it. Felicity, happiness, light. It suits you.”

“Thanks. I figure since I know your secret, you’re entitled to one of mine as well.”

A beat of silence surrounds them, this one not nearly as uncomfortable as the last, and for a second it almost looks like Oliver is going to say something else to her. But he doesn’t and Felicity takes that as her cue to go lest he change his mind and decide that offing her is the safer option for keeping his nighttime activities a secret.

“Bye, Oliver.”

“Goodbye, Felicity.”

The privacy curtain falls shut behind her on the way out and with every step she takes, Felicity fades further into the background, swallowed up by the pounding bass and the hypnotic atmosphere of the club once more.


End file.
